


stopmotion

by cm (mumblemutter)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Curtain Fic, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 10:39:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1263208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mumblemutter/pseuds/cm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce and Tony settle in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stopmotion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zekkass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zekkass/gifts).
  * Inspired by [keyframe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/745171) by [Zekkass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zekkass/pseuds/Zekkass). 



"Green silk, really?" Not just green. A vibrant, lively green. JARVIS can probably tell him what shade it is, exactly, but Bruce decides not to ask.

Tony is looking expectantly at him.

"Ah," Bruce says. "The curtains are nice." Neutral shade. Although if black is supposed to be the absence of color, then what's white? He draws the curtains aside, glances outside. They're still re-building, and Bruce can't help but think how much damage was caused by him, personally.

Can't help but wonder: did he enjoy it. That freedom to destroy at will.

"Are you not going to comment on the carpets at all? Bruce, I have compromised in so many ways, I feel you should be appropriately grateful."

"The carpets are also nice." Bruce winces as Tony exhales with some disbelief. "Sorry." He kicks off his shoes, sinks his feet into the soft, pale beige material. It really is nice. Exquisite would probably be more appropriate. A word Tony Stark is no doubt accustomed to. "I thought we agreed on no curtains, though."

"We agreed on solid colored sheets." Tony sits on the bed, bounces a little. "This is a great bed. Just the right amount of hardness. Some people enjoy the really soft ones, but I never could get used to a bed that feels as if it's there to swallow you up. We can change it if you prefer something else, though." He says this as if he has no hope at all that Bruce will have an opinion one way or another.

It kind of takes the wind out of Bruce's automatic, "My last bed was a foam mattress," response.

He misses the food in Calcutta. Used to be, he had what his mom called a delicate constitution, and what Dad called ingratitude. This as Bruce was throwing up his dinner, which he didn't pay for and therefore should keep down, no matter that his stomach didn't agree.

The other guy though, has no use for food poisoning. Or the flu, or the common cold, or any other kind of disease one might catch in a city with too many people and improper sanitation. So Bruce had the pleasure of watching other people die, yet again.

"Come sit next to me," Tony says. He pats the space next to him, smiles.

Bruce does as he's told, but can't help but say, "This color, though."

"You said you wanted solids. I had a beautiful print all picked out."

"Virulent green is not exactly what I had in mind."

"I like green," Tony says, and leers. About as much as Tony Stark ever leers, anyway. His hand is on Bruce's knee, squeezing lightly.

"That's a really terrible line," Bruce says. But he has to admit: he's both charmed and turned on. So maybe it's not so terrible after all.

Tony leans over, kisses him. "We have to break in the sheets, it's tradition."

"Whose tradition?"

"Mine - the one I just made up. You're last on the list."

"I'm sure Romanov was pleased to hear this."

"Hmm," Tony says. He pushes Bruce back down onto the bed, and Bruce allows it. "Are you going to sleep with me or what?"

Bruce stares up at the ceiling, half expecting there to be a mirror over the bed. He sighs. "Maybe. What's the thread count on these sheets again?"

"I didn't actually buy them, Banner. JARVIS will tell you."

"They're Mulberry silk, sir. A seven hundred thread count."

"That doesn't seem like enough for me to put out, Tony." It feels weird, flirting in front of the AI. Does JARVIS mind? Should Bruce politely ask him to stop listening, or apologize or something? He's seen and heard far worse, surely. It's Stark.

There's a knock on the door. Breakfast has arrived, rolled in on a silver tray by an unsteady looking contraption on wheels. Bruce takes a seat at the kitchen counter, reaches first for the coffee. It's good coffee: it always is, and he doesn't miss that Tony's somehow managed to provide him with the thick, black brew that Bruce used to mainline in India.

It strikes him then: he's being courted. And not just for the science, or the other guy.

As if the kissing didn't give it away.

It's not like Bruce is new at this whole thing, it's just been a while. A long while. He clears his throat. "So these pancakes are really good. I always did like strawberry the most."

"I wasn't stalking you. I just read things, and then I remember them. You know how it is."

Bruce completely does, but still. He takes another gulp of coffee. "Dark blue," he says.

"Dark blue?"

"The sheets. Make them dark blue. Then we can talk about breaking them in."

"That is the worst color in the entire universe, Bruce."

"Gold and red though, really?"

Tony grins around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. "I want them to know I'm coming, see." The smile fades away. Tony hasn't been sleeping, or so Pepper says. Lack of sleep, hours spent in his workshop, obsession obsession obsession. Aliens weren't the worst or strangest thing that ever happened to Bruce, but if he hadn't spent years trying to manage his anxiety, he might have trouble sleeping as well. "You can get used to the green, Bruce. You won't even notice it after we're done, I promise."

Bruce starts to laugh. Tony looks offended for about a second, then leans forward and kisses him again. This time Bruce kisses back, hard. He pushes Tony away after a long moment, says, "Breakfast first, then we'll talk."

"You sound like my ex-wife."

"You were married?"

"Future ex-wife. Or ex-husband. I haven't decided yet."

"I'm not marrying you," Bruce says, firmly. "I can't tell everyone I got divorced because we couldn't agree on sheet colors."

Tony shakes his head, and sits back into his chair. But there's a smug smile on his face, and Bruce thinks, maybe he can get used to the green.


End file.
